


Good Times, Bad Times

by LadyZeppelin1111 (QueenBoudica1770)



Category: Led Zeppelin, Real Person Fiction, Rock Music RPF, Terry Reid - Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Feelings, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Gay, Gay Sex, Growing Up Together, Hand Jobs, Homoeroticism, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Masturbation, Other, Porn with Feelings, Roommates, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Teen Angst, Teenagers, just because
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-29
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenBoudica1770/pseuds/LadyZeppelin1111
Summary: Robert Plant and John Bonham, for no good reason other than teenage buddies going through sexual awakening is adorable and awkward lol.Robert is homeless, poor guy.This is not in the universe I've created in my series Latter Days, Lost Boy or Soul Remains the Same, it's in its own world lol. I will follow real known events where I can.
Relationships: John Bonham/Robert Plant, Robert Plant/Terry Reid
Comments: 11
Kudos: 22





	1. Wankery

**Author's Note:**

> Teenage boy awkwardness. Robert is hot regardless.
> 
> Sex will likely be in the near future. OH THE TENSION.

Good Times, Bad Times

1

John was glad to not be sneaking extra helpings to the skinny, scruffy lad who was his best friend anymore. Mums always tend to find out things, and his mother was no different. She'd caught on to the fact there was a homeless kid living in her son's walk in closet (the house was old and that section used to be part of another room) and he was one of those wild music playing hippie perverts.

After some arguing and Robert giving off the most pitiful sad, blue, puppy dog eyes John's parents relented and allowed the boy, 17 years old, same as John, stay, but he had to behave himself, and either get an actual paying job or get himself back to accounting training, which he'd left. He nodded, the obscenely long blond curls bouncing with the movement, and proclaimed he would find employment. 

The next day, Robert hit the streets to apply for work, found a few good leads, and was absolutely overjoyed to sit at the table with Bonzo's sister, mum and dad, like a real family. He helped with the washing up and as there was no other beds or bedrooms, curled up in his friend's bed to read music magazines. John was only going to school half the day, and helping at his dad's construction company laying bricks the rest of the time. He was considering quitting school completely to have time to dedicate to the band he and Robert was in, the Band of Joy. Being tired, he wasn't happy to find the gangly, goofy singer lounging in his small bed.

"Get back in the damn closet, the bed's too small for us," he announced. 

Robert looked up from his reading, sporting Puss-in-Boots eyes again. "But I don't have to hide anymore, and there's not enough room to stretch out in there."

"You're lucky you're still here, mate, now go on!"

"John pleeeeease," Robert whined.

"Get," he said firmly.

Sullenly he slapped the periodical on the night stand and trudged to the closet, stripping off naked as he went. The singer had shot up in height, and looked like he would put in another few inches in height before he was done growing, and despite his adolescent clumsiness, was developing into an attractive young man. The drummer rolled his hazel eyes, the lad was a fucking nudist on top of being the loudest, flashiest, biggest manwhore he'd ever seen. Robert made a big theatrical show of bunching up blankets, laying down, then sighing heavily.

John disrobed to his underwear and got in bed, settling in. Robert gave off a few more hopeful, noisy sighs before giving up. The drummer went to blissful sleep in no time flat, and was happy to be in said slumber for a few hours, until something woke him. He laid there, eyes open, trying to determine what could've roused him.

Then it was his turn to sigh. He was awakened by Robert masturbating desperately in the closet. Bleeding hell. "Rob, c'mon man, I'm trying to sleep here," Bonzo hissed in the closet's direction. "Ya geezer, what the hell, stop or hurry up."

"Stop yapping, I can't finish like this!" Robert growled back. The sounds started up again.

John counted to twenty. Then he counted to a hundred.

"Percy, Goddddd," the dark haired lad complained. "Me Mum will hear!"

"Ah, just wait a tick, unnh," Robert called back, from the squelching sounds giving his dick holy hell. Finally it happened, with Robert biting back his orgasm, his stifled moan ending in a breathy, melodic call. It was similar to the sexually charged way he sang on stage, but this time, Bonzo was horrified to discover himself growing hard at hearing Robert's climax. Why would he be aroused over his best mate taking care of his overwhelming male teenage hormones? What could be wrong with him?

"Aw, I'm gonna need another towel I think," Robert whispered, mostly to himself, and emerged from the closet, naked and now happily spent, to go to the tiny half bath the boys used. John lay motionless and baffled, unable to take his eyes off the skinny but glorious frame in the moonlight as he passed by. What. The fuck. After he was done he padded back into the bedroom to see his friend staring at him from the bed. "Bonzo, you all right, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm, I'm fine."

"Then why are--" Robert began, before he recognized that look. It was desire, something he'd already become familiar with, as girls flocked to him. He noticed the lump under the sheets and asked, "D'you want me to take care of that for you?"

"Jesus, Rob, no! I ain't a fruit!"

"It's better than dealing with it and not sleeping."

"Get back in your closet, Percy. Mum's right, you are a pervert..you'd do or fuck anything. A fucking faggot, are ya?"

Robert's face hardened at that. "I know you helped me out, gave me a place to stay, but to hear that from you of all people. Fuck you, John Henry." He stomped angrily to his little place in John's closet. 

Bonzo could hear the other boy sobbing, and realized he had been kicked out of his parent's house for just being himself, had lived on the streets before Bonzo offered to let him stay here, and he had nowhere to go and nobody to accept him. And now John had torn him down further, the one person in the world he felt cared about him, had insulted him and made him feel that much worse. The drummer got out of bed and went to the closet entrance. "Robert. Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. You've went to juvie doing things to help me, always supported me. I take it all back."

"Thank you," Robert whispered, wiped his eyes. "You're all I've got, Bonzo."

"If you...if you wanna have half a tiny rickety bed, you're welcome to it."

Robert wasted no time grabbing a blanket and diving into the bed. John was a big teddy bear, after all. Robert adored him.


	2. Unusual Developments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert gets a job, John is wondering about all sorts of things.
> 
> Oh, and handjobs.
> 
> HANDJOBS AND SEXINESS.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh, just some teenagers being horny and...stuff.

Good Times Bad Times

2

A few weeks passed, Robert got a job with a road crew laying tarmac, and he would come home smelling like asphalt, with it even clinging to those golden locks. John did quit school, much to his parents’ dismay, though he worked hard at his own job. In their down time he and Robert practiced, and the Band of Joy played local clubs and festivals. Robert had cut a few singles with Alexis Korner, but nothing had ever come of it, so he concentrated on the band.

They’d known each other since they were 12 or 13, though Robert’s family was fairly well off, better off than many in the area. John liked visiting the nice, rambling old house the Plants lived in, until the boy decided to he wanted to be a rock and roll singer like Elvis, which precipitated more and more fights with Robert and his parents. 

Robert hadn't spoken of the weeks he’d dropped off everyone’s radar, after he’d ditched the old man he was making tea for (supposedly an accountant he’d been apprenticed to), only showing up to a random practice bruised and starving but still smiling. Bonzo knew something was up, as he’d only been told by Robert’s father that he no longer lived there when he went to his house to check on him. This had worried the big-hearted, gruff young drummer, but he was so glad Robert popped up when he did.

Robert was so embarrassed to even ask for help, had never had a day of want in his stolidly middle class life, until he was sleeping on random couches and floors, shagging whichever girl had a mum and dad that would look the other way as long as he left in the morning, sometimes with some pilfered leftovers in his stomach and banknotes in his pocket. He had hung around the Small Faces while he was still living at home, and earned a little change here and there running errands and packing their equipment in, but he picked up things here and there, about music, about playing, about singing from your gut from Steve Marriott. When they went to the States to tour, just a couple weeks after he’d left home, he was at loose ends again.

Fast forward to now, both teens working as laborers but dreaming of something more, what their hearts yearned for, which was playing music for real, and not having to bust their asses doing anything else.

Robert had dropped by with his new girlfriend Maureen, an Anglo-Indian petite beauty, on their way to a Terry Reid show after a short day with the paving team, and John was happy for him. He’d been shagging a blonde named Pat, a nice gal if a bit disapproving of the musician thing, and though she was still in school she’d be graduating soon. The drummer spent the evening watching the telly with his little sister Deborah, then listened to some records in his room before turning in for the night. He woke at some point to rustling and movement in the room, then the bed giving way under another body slipping carefully onto it. Robert settled in, having slipped into a pair of John’s pyjama bottoms.

John could smell Maureen’s perfume on him, along with sweat, marijuana and the smell of sex. Well, that’s to be expected, but he couldn’t identify his own ambivalence about it. “Have a good time?” the drummer asked evenly.

“Yeh. That bloke Terry, he can really belt it out. Man, what soul, like Steve but kinda folksier, more American West Coast. Maureen scored us some grass, we hung out at some friends’ house. It’s nice to have a place to come back to, though,” then he giggled, clearly on some good shit.

“She seems pretty nice. Maybe you should settle down with ‘er, you know?”

“She’s great, but…I don’t know, we both like the free love thing. Just go, and go, and do whatever, no bad feelings,” he sighed, and rolled toward John, his eyes big and dilated. “I know, I know, I’m awful.”

“Naw, mate, just different,” the other boy said, feeling rather introspective. Robert was indeed cut from a different cloth, but he didn't think it was a bad thing. “Robert,” he said after a minute. “I’ve been saving up money, and I’ve had offers from a few bands and artist, like Tim Rose’s outfit. I mean to get a place for me an’ Pat, get out of here so I can have my own home and stuff. But I don’t wanna just leave you in the lurch, ya get me?”

“It’s ok, mate. I’m hoping Terry might be able to hook me up with some gigs, introduce me to some folks.”

“Hey, uh, something’s been bothering me. You never said how you got so ragged, so banged up, when you showed back up. If I knew the bastard what did it, I’d fix ‘em up, so help me.”

Robert threw a long arm around his friend, squeezed him. “Bonzo, you’re the best. But I…can’t talk about it. Not yet, anyway. My sweet, sweet, boy,” he murmured, and buried his face in the larger man’s chest, breath hitching as he swallowed down the pain. 

At a loss, John wrapped his arms around the blond, unable to find words to comfort him. He wasn't good at that sort of thing, always felt kind of dumb and oafish. Robert was so smart, bright, funny, loyal, beautiful…

Wait. Ladies, birds are beautiful, not your schoolchum. 

Robert went to sleep with his mop-head of curls in Bonzo’s face. He groaned and finally drifted off himself.

It was sometime in the early morning, before dawn, John’s eyes opened. He lay there a moment staring at the ceiling tiles when he was aware of rhythmic movement and sounds. Jesus fucking FUCK, was he wanking off again? He’d just shagged Maureen, dear angels in Heaven. John was a healthy red-blooded teenage boy and could get aroused at times at the drop of a hat, but this just really took the bloody cake. Inches away from him in the half broken down little bed, having at himself.

sigh.

AWKWARD.

Bonzo had already been questioning himself, his sexuality, hell his fucking life, and this, this kid, his friend, a bloke for Christ’s sake, is not helping. AT ALL. He finally threw all normalcy and good sense out the window and rolled to his side to look at Robert and tell him to knock it the hell off, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

The long, lean figure, bathed in moonlight, was stroking himself wantonly. His shoulder length yellow hair was splayed out on the lumpy pillow, stray locks damp with sweat plastered around his forehead and cheekbones. His eyes were closed, mouth slightly open, his cheeks flushed with the arousal and his exertions. His shoulders had widened just the past couple months, and with hard manual labor and John’s mum’s cooking, he had filled out somewhat. Robert had shucked the pyjama pants to mid-thigh, to have access to WHAT THE HELL THAT’S…WOW. 

John was proud of his own well-endowed tool, but Robert’s fully engorged member was a sight to behold. Against his will John felt himself harden at the scene before him, as Robert pleasured himself, occasionally biting his bottom lip from the effort. John finally found his voice. “Percy,” he gulped. “Could you not?”

Robert’s eyes fluttered open, he was still a bit high from the weed he’d smoked earlier, and focused on his bedmate. He just grinned the lopsided smile of his and continued stroking himself. It was the most erotic thing John had ever seen in his young life. His hand seemed to lift of its own accord and he put his fingers on that gorgeous, shining face, flush with youth, still with a bit of baby fat despite he recent hardships, so perfect. He smoothed back the errant, sweaty strands of hair, and Robert sighed at the touch. “God damn you, Rob. How are you—why are you so beautiful?”

“Kiss me, John,” Robert finally whispered.

“Percy, this is, this isn’t right—“

“I’ve been thinking of you, darling. You.” He kept wanking himself while gazing into Bonzo’s eyes.

FUCK.

So he did, he placed his lips on the delicate, thin lips of the other lad, to find Robert willing and pliant, letting Bonzo probe his mouth with his tongue. Oh, this was so nice, so very nice, Robert’s mouth so sweet. The blond adolescent moaned into his friend’s mouth as he increased the speed of his pumping his own cock. When they parted from the passionate kiss, John was caught up in Robert’s need. “Fuck, Robert. That’s…God it’s fucking sexy.” Then he broke all barriers of what he’d previously thought as decency and took up stroking that massive dick rising up from the blond curls of his pubic region, faster, moaning along with Robert who’d begun writhing now. “Rob, come for me. I wanna see you come.”

“Oh, you filthy bugger! Yes!” Robert cried, and his testicles drew up, followed by his cock erupting with his climax. White ropes of come shot forth, drenching his belly and Bonzo’s hand. He kept pumping up and down the shaft as the jets lessened, until finally Robert was finished and panting.

What the hell had just happened.

Bonzo had just given the world’s weirdest and most erotic hand job to his best mate…and he was beyond turned on now.

Ok then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so hoping this turned out ok and somewhat faithful to our two Midlands boys and not ick.
> 
> Love you guys.


	3. Squeeze Me, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Black Country Delinquents up to no good.
> 
> They also can't seem to keep their hands off each other, lol.
> 
> WARNING: Implied sexual assault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're kinda like two stray puppies that have a pure love and affection..that sometimes like to hump each other lmao.

Good Times, Bad Times

3

Robert breathed deeply, letting his heart slow from the immense release he’d just had, then opened those big blue eyes to look at John. “My dear John. Sweet boy,” he crooned, and slipped his hand down the drummer’s underwear as that was all he was wearing, and began to stroke his erection. He felt he should protest, should stop what Robert was doing, but it was so good and he was so worked up after watching the hottest person on the planet get off in front of him, he just let the golden haired singer do as he would. Robert was so enthralled even after his release, his schoolmate, bandmate, protector, closer to him than his own blood relatives, so strong yet so gentle, now with a face wrought with absolute pleasure. He loved the sounds Bonzo was making, the way he clutched at the sheets, eyes screwed shut with the force of his passion.

“Robert—oh, ohhh that’s so nice,” he gasped out, trying not to make noise to wake his family.

The thinner lad kissed John’s lips, his neck, nibbled at his shoulder, all while pumping his big, calloused hand up and down John’s shaft. The drummer was so wrapped up in the sensation, never dreamed another bloke could make him feel what he was feeling, found himself bucking his hips as Robert worked him. “Oh, Bonzo, you’re beautiful, you know that?” Robert whispered. John found it hard to believe but his mate was in earnest, he knew Robert didn’t lie about such things. And he wasn’t lying; he loved the muscular frame John had developed the past year or so, loved the thick, straight, dark brown hair, loved the odd eyes he had—blue shading into brown near his pupils. He kissed the drummer again, increasing the speed of his jacking off his friend, driving him wild.

“Ahh, Rob, I’m gonna—“ Bonzo began, but Robert applied more pressure and speed, making him come, and come hard. He had to bite back his screams of ecstasy, writhing in the small bed until he was spent. There was jizzz on them and the bed, so they cleaned up and changed the bedclothes, before laying back down, both still naked.

“Rob, what did…what just happened?” wondered John honestly, as his friend snuggled into his more muscular, warm body.

“What needed to, mate. I love you. Didn’t you know?”

“I…love you too, Percy. I’m just, um, a bit taken aback.”

Robert was already drifting off to sleep again, his arm around Bonzo’s waist.

The pair shared snatches of pleasure from one another in between their busy schedules, and some time later Bonzo moved out of his parents’ home into a mobile home with Pat, who refused to let Robert anywhere around, stating he was a bad influence. John felt she had no clue the extent of Percy’s influence. Robert meanwhile was living/squatting in Terry Reid’s house, being the house sitter whenever Terry was touring or otherwise not home. John wondered if the two were shagging, chastised himself as they both had serious relationships with women, what’s it to him what Robert was doing away from him, since John had in essence deprived him of both band and home?

Robert took it upon himself to siphon gas from people’s cars in order for Bonzo to get to his audition for Tim Rose. They were in a pretty well off suburb, John keeping watch as Robert sucked the hose to get the gas going into the gas can. He had a good stream going when the owner of the vehicle came out the front door and noticed Robert stealing gas. “Hey! You! Stop that!” the man yelled. John had been checking out a nice looking bird across the street and didn’t notice until too late that Robert had been had. The owner was yelling at Robert who had ingested some petrol and was coughing. John darted across the street to them and tried apologizing, pulling at his friend to try getting them away, when the man came at him, pelting him with his fists. John with brute force shoved the bloke back, but he came at him again.

Robert got to his feet and pushed at the bloke, who was now beyond enraged, the guy taking hold of Robert’s women’s blouse he was wearing and ripped it. Something snapped in the blond kid, who began screaming at the guy not to touch him, nobody could touch him without his permission. There was a struggle while John tried to figure out what to do, and Robert straight up cold-cocked the chap, his body sinking to the pavement like a sack of bricks. “Right, time to get the fuck outta here,” announced the singer, grabbing the gas can and both boys hightailing it away from there.

They got to a side street, panting, exhilarated from the excitement and the illegality of what they’d just done. “Jesus, Robert! I’m sorry, I wasn’t watching that moment—“

“Fuck, John Henry,” Robert growled. “I almost got beaten up again. He, he, tore my clothes,” Robert’s face was screwed up into an expression of terror and trauma. “I told him, I told him I couldn’t—I wouldn’t—“

It dawned on John that he wasn’t referring to the chap they’d stolen gas from, but the earlier incident that had happened, one he hadn’t let on to anyone about. “Robert, love, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” John pulled the shaking singer to him, wrapped his strong arms around him, felt him shivering like a leaf. “Rob, I won’t let you do something like that for me again. I won’t let you down again.”

Robert pulled away, his face surprisingly dry but the normally merry blue eyes haunted. “I’m all right. Really. It just brought it all back, after I’d almost forgotten it.”

“If you wanna talk about it, I’m here. I wish you’d tell me who it was so I could kill ‘em. I wanna do the same to your parents for leaving you in that kinda situation.”

Robert smiled at John, kissed him quickly on the lips. “I know. Maybe someday I can tell you. Come on, let’s get this to the car so you can have your big audition.”

Pat was running errands and visiting her family, so Robert was at John’s, which was no surprise. The pair was inseparable, neither parents or shitty jobs or birds would keep them apart, it seems. Bonzo broke the news to his friend/lover that his bride was pregnant, so his new gig with Tim Rose was going to save his ass. Robert congratulated him stiffly.

Neither knew what to say as they sat in the cramped living room in the mobile home the Bonhams were renting. John should be happy, things were going well at last, but for some reason, he wasn’t.

He missed Robert. Needed him. Loved him with that fierce adolescent new love.

They smoked some of Robert’s weed, letting the muzzy warmth spread over them, blunting their feelings of confusion and unnameable sadness. As if he’d made a decision, the drummer got languidly to his feet and took hold of Robert’s wrist. “Come on,” he spoke, and pulled the only true drop of sunshine in his life to his bedroom.

They unhurriedly undressed one another, drinking in the sight of one another, flush in their young adulthood. He was glad someone so pure, so wonderful, beautiful and passionate, wanted to do these things with him. It was wrong, people said it was wrong, didn’t they, the Church said it was wrong, but it wasn’t. How could something so joyful and amazing be bad? The way Robert cast his adoring blue gaze at him, the way he moved, those long, lean muscles under the smooth, tanned skin, crawled into bed with him, kissed him so sweetly. Robert slid down him, took John’s cock into his mouth, sucked him so well. He used his calloused laborer’s hand’s on John’s shaft as he pulled up with his mouth, then back down, getting grunts and moans from the drummer.

John felt enveloped in such acceptance and love, the way Robert’s mouth felt fastened around his dick was glorious, he didn’t want it to end, but he was almost there. “Rob, ahh, I’m gonna come, I’m coming,” groaned John.

Robert looked up, locked eyes with him, watched him as John filled his mouth with his seed. He swallowed it down, pumped the cock until it was spent, then slithered up the drummer’s body to snuggle into him. John felt it only right to reciprocate, having learned to fit most of Robert’s massive cock in his mouth and work him to a screaming, thrashing, writhing mess.

The sounds the boy made, were incredible and erotic. He panted, grunted, moaned, raised that powerful tenor into an air raid siren when his orgasm hit, his initial spurt so large and with such force John nearly choked, but he kept milking him until he stopped shuddering with his climax.

They lay, in one another’s arms, content and everything was all right with the world. For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, how's it going? Didn't expect this many feels haha.


	4. Terry Reeeeeeid Bitches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok sorry but I'm on a Terry Reid kick since he Facebook liked the drawing I did of him lol.
> 
> Robert and his roommate.
> 
> SEX.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jeez he's like a little horndog, that Robert lol.
> 
> Terry Fucking Reid!! HAHAHAHA

Good Times, Bad Times

4

Terry Reid would be going on tour with supergroup Cream in support of his album Bang, Bang, You're Terry Reid and he was having a big party to celebrate. His friend/roommate/big mooch Robert was there, of course, since he had nowhere else to go, and he was so goofy and endearing he couldn't kick him out. He was always fun at parties, and attracted all sorts of birds wherever he went, and this time was no exception. Everyone was drunk and stoned, listening to records, eating, making out with and groping each other.

"Percy," called Terry at one point, his eyes soft and langid with the chemicals he'd ingested and smoked 

[Terry Reid looking sensual lol](http://fav.me/de20yy7)

"Hmm, Terry?" warbled Robert, making his way, inebriated, to where the singer/guitarist was slouched in a chair.

[Robert Plant the Fanboy](http://fav.me/ddzbhjt)

"You still with that band Hobb--hobbs, um.."

"Hobbstweedle," the blond finished for him.

"Yeah. Them."

"Yeah, we're gigging pretty regular."

"You need a better name."

"Hell, he needs a better band," piped up one of Terry's friends.

"Very funny," hiccuped Robert, then focused on the bird that had sidled up to him. He nuzzled her as she ran a hand lightly over his crotch and purred like a kitten.

"Seriously though Robert, you need to be looking for something better," Terry went on. "You can't live here forever. That's a hint, by the way. Can't have you shorting out the basement again while I'm on tour."

"That wasn't my fault, the fuse blew and I don't know anything about that shit!"

Terry snorted and got up to make his way to his bedroom to pull out more records to listen to."Ter, hey, wot you doing? You're not sacking me, are ya?" Robert called, then pulled himself away from the bird to follow him.

"Terry, listen, me and Maureen is looking for a place with some friends," Robert continued when he entered Terry's room, to find him rifling through his large album collection. 

"I didn't take you to raise, Percy," the dark haired musician muttered.

"I know, Terry, I know. I'm working on it."

At Robert's worried look, Terry relented. "I just can't say no to you, ya big goon," he smiled.

Robert breathed a sigh of relief, and joined his roommate at the shelf. "Looking for anything in particular?" asked the curly haired man.

Terry cast a sidelong glance at him, having to kind of look up as well as Robert towered over him. "Are you?"

The singer gazed at him in surprise, then his face softened. He didn't understand it, but the young man had caught on to what his looks and charisma did to people. "Huh. Well, I do like what I see," which was indeed the case. The man was slender and delicate looking, porcelain skin, with the face and voice of an angel. His dark, nearly black hair fell to his shoulders, straight and thick, lightening in patches in the summer to a gold-copper color. The wide mouth had pouty lips, like some Victorian painting of a cherub, and he was rather cherubic; playful, sensuous, ethereal even. Those eyes, large, heavy lidded, were such an unsual color, and appeared either brown or greenish in photos. The truth was they were a grey-green with flecks of golden brown in the warm depths.

It seems that Robert had a thing with blokes with unique colored eyes.

"C'mere," the dark haired man murmured, and pulled Robert down for a soft kiss. He deepened the kiss, making it a plea of need, of bliss.

"Terry--" began the yellow haired man when they parted. "Ah, I don't want to cause any problems, you know…"

"Wot? With the Stones? You think I'm their little boy, it's how I got the gigs I got?" Terry snapped. He knew the rumours about him and certain members of the Rolling Stones and various others, which were mostly false. Just mostly.

"No, I wasn't saying that," Robert stuttered. "I didn't know if there was someone this could, ah, hurt."

"The answer to that, is no. Now get in the bed, ya big galoot. You're gonna fuck me brainless."

Shagging Terry was different, Robert found, but it was good. The guitarist was no stranger to fucking another dude it seems, so some of the stories must be true, but then again Robert had been having sex with his best mate for a while now, so he could hardly point ffingers. He had Terry from behind at first, but then he told him to get on his back so he could see his pretty face. He was gorgeous, forceful yet submissive, giving his pale, slim body up to Robert to penetrate with abandon. He wrapped his strong legs around Robert's slim waist, driving him deeper, harder, both men sweaty and panting now with the effort.

When it was over, Terry was snuggled against Robert, both having a cigarette, letting their heartbeats calm. "Damn, Terry. That was great."

"Yeah, it was. I'm not your first bloke, am I?" he asked, genuinely curious. 

Robert shook his head, the golden curls bouncing with the movement.

"Was it Steve? Seemed like you had a crush on him," the smaller man took a drag.

"No," laughed Robert. "You're not the only one the victim of rumours."

Terry thought for a moment, then said, "The drummer for the Band of Joy. Bonzo. It was him, wasn't it?"

"Yes, though we don't get to see each other much anymore," Robert said wistfully. 

Terry studied him for a few minutes. "You cats play so well together, you really do. Ya need to be in a band together whether you're shagging or not."

"Not gonna happen, right now at any rate. He's got a good thing going for the time being."

"I'll keep my ears and eyes open for ya. I'm a sucker for star crossed love."

"You'd do that for me?" wondered Robert, gazing affectionately at the unreal, pale man in the bed with him.

"You keep shagging me like that, I just might marry your dumb ass. Yes, if something comes my way, you'll be the first to know."

****

[Robert being Robert--who needs clothes?](http://fav.me/de0kqbr)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos, comments, ideas welcome! Heyyyo!

**Author's Note:**

> What is wrong with my brain dammit lol.
> 
> Usual rules apply, kudos, comments, cheese sammiches welcome.


End file.
